What Might Have Happened
by BestSkeptic
Summary: Hermione secretly transforms into a man. Ron and Harry are gay for each other and want to bring Cedric Diggory back from the dead. Snape is a cradlerobber, and the sexy Malfoy finds himself in hapless situations night after night. Rated M for a reason.
1. In the Beginning

**A/N:** Please, take this with a grain of salt. Don't be offended; I'm just as big of a Potter fan as the next extremely insane fanatic. I'm currently writing a more serious HG/DM fic, which will be up soon. This is rated M for a reason. Proceed at your own risk.

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She was so distraught traversing the darkened hallways of a midnight Hogwarts that the curly-haired spitfire barely noticed the tall, greasy man grabbing her ass as she climbed the dungeon stairs.

A manly burp escaped her as she burst into her Head Girl's room. After cleverly casting a locking charm on her room, she began to scratch at her arms nervously, and soon she towered above fifteen feet of facial hair, and nine inches of pink, throbbing... hairless kittens. Then it came.

"I... AM... HERMAN!" Growls and farts escaped the previously dainty seventh-year as she–er, he–grew through his robes, ripping them to shreds as he had the night before. He pounded on his chest and swigged an entire litre of Vodka before resigning to his bed with his wand–"Vibrato Orgasmo!"

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The next morning around the breakfast table, Ron was the first to speak. "I wonder what's tied Hermione's wand in a knot!"

"Oi! Why's she in such a pickle?" Harry added boisterously.

"Girl troubles, I bet," Ron snickered.

"Blimey!" Harry exclaimed. "You filthy twit, you're right! It's been nearly a month now since the last–er, incident." The word "filthy" was accentuated for a reason Ron knew but failed to discern.

"What incident?" The two friends turned around instantly to find Hermione brushing her hair out of her face with two dainty fingers, staring quizzically at them.

"I haven't a clue what Harry was talking about," Ron replied happily, nudging his best friend in his "magic wand" under the table.

"You never cease to amaze me, Ronald Weasley," Hermione sighed. "Positively incredulous!" she muttered under her breath.

Luna was always quick to fill her in on the gossip. "Harry and Ron say that you're menstruating. Was it as heavy this time as it was last time? Because I know a doctor you can see ab–"

"Luna!" Hermione gasped. "That is... that is positively untrue, disgusting, and–oh, Luna! Keep those things to yourself!" There was a long pause at the table before Hermione realized everyone was staring at the nicks on her cheeks. "Oh, I... I had a bit of an accident. Nothing to worry about."

"Don't worry, we weren't in the least," Harry retorted absentmindedly. "We were just hatching our newest plan."

"Newest plan? Oh dear," Hermione sighed.

"Oh, it's positively fantastic!" Ron exclaimed. "Hermione, do you ever wonder, you know, what it would be like?"

"What what would be like? Ron!"

"To bring somebody back," Ron's eyes widened before he bellowed, "from the dead!"

Hermione let out a condescending exhalation. "Oh, Ron, you know it can't be done with any spell we know. Or, at least," she added as an afterthought, "any spell you know. And besides, think about how horrid that would look."

"Oh, no, Hermione. We wouldn't actually bring him back. Simply... dig 'im up! See what he does!"

"Ron, I will not, if you bring me to a dead, rotting corpse, use a spell to bring him back for you out of mere disgust. You can't use me that way. I won't play your rotten games."

"We'll just see about that," Ron asserted, clearly mollified.

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Meanwhile, in Professor McGonagall's bed, Draco Malfoy awoke in a drunken haze to the tender touch of a woman.

"Oh Draco," his most favored female teacher sighed, tracing his bare chest with kisses, and, of course, her long finger.

"Mmm," he grunted, "Yes, that's it. That's–" Draco's mind went from groggy to alert in an instant as he began tearing bed sheets off of his body. "What in the bloody hell? Get off me, you wretched hag! When my father hears of this–"

"Malfoy! That's hardly what I'd have expected from such an agile, worthy... student. Ten points from Slytherin."

"What? You! This is molestation! Child molestation! Oh, you filthy–"

"Not any longer. You turned eighteen last week, do you not remember? And you certainly consented to this... this passionate–"

"Passionate? Oh, don't tell me, you whore. Consent my ass!"

"Oh, you do have a nice ass," McGonagall added as a side thought. "Yes, you most certainly consented to this. You had to pull my leg–and my drawers–to get me to sleep with you. Draco, I must say, you are quite the romancer."

"Bloody fuck! How pissed was I last night?"

"When you came to me crying, it was the least I could do."

"Crying? What in Merlin's name–But of course. It was Pansy's eighteenth birthday party last night. Fool, I should have known. McGonagall–"

"Oh, call me Minerva, Draco."

"It's Malfoy to you! I'll have your job for this!"

"No, you won't," the professor said, finally in a deathly serious tone. "If you tell a soul, I'll let the order know about your little... ehm, mishaps, with the first year Ravenclaw girls, as well as your tendency to drink, cut class, the secrets of the Dark Lord you spilled to me last night, that time with Buckbeak–"

"You knew about Buckbeak?" Draco's pale face turned a blank white.

"Oh, the things a boy will tell you when he's smashed."

"You... you... rotten bitch! Once I'm out of Hogwarts, I'll have you killed for this."

McGonagall barely got in a final word before Draco flew out of her dorm door, stark naked.


	2. A Warm Welcome for an Old Friend

Draco had been traveling the halls sans clothing for a good four hours upon finding his third flask of Bailey's. With Dumbledore dead, entropy rampaged through Hogwarts, and plus, any student–girls and boys alike–would be barking mad to tattle on the sexiest seventh-year since Cedric Diggory to roam the halls in his birthday suit.

In an instant, he found himself staring into darkness. With an "mmph," he raised his silver eyes to stare directly into those of the raven-haired beauty. "Mmmmmmghh," he groaned before resting all of his weight on the mysterious figure's clothing and laughing hysterically.

"Come to me," the low, sensual voice cooed. Draco obliged.

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The next morning, Draco Malfoy awoke with quite a sore behind. He groaned, rubbed his arse, and opened his eyes. He couldn't remember going to any classes yesterday. Hell, he couldn't even remember where in the bloody hell he was. He rubbed his eyes with two bare arms.

"Oh, Draco." The low, manly voice startled the Slytherin head boy.

"What the–" Draco was suddenly awake, clutching a quilt around his still naked body. "No. No. Please, Merlin, No. Not again."

"Mr. Malfoy, there's nothing of which to be ashamed," the man with long, greasy, black hair affirmed. "It's okay now, we don't have to hide anymore."

"No, please, no. Tell me this is just some ghastly dream."

"Oh, but what a pleasant, ghastly dream."

"Not again! Snape, you manky bastard!"

"It's Severus. Honestly, Draco. How long have we known each other?"

"Evidently, far too long. And far too well, at least for my tastes! I may not have McGonagall's job, but I'll most certainly have yours, you mad git!"

"Draco," Snape began, "you're forgetting a precious fact of life. Blackmail is a very... quaint idea. Do you want the entire school to know about your allegiance to the Dark Lord, that time last year with Parvati and Luna, simultaneously, might I add," Draco's gulp interrupted him. "Your firebolt, er... incident... the galleons you stole from Dumbledore's grave, those looks you've been shooting at the filthy mudblood, the midgets you store in your basement to cockfight, so to speak, with your house elves, that time with Buckbeak–"

"Not you, too! You know what, I don't even want to know how you knew that."

"Legilimency, my boy," Snape confirmed.

"Oh, right. But of course."

Then it hit him. Draco opened his mouth to scream but only emitted carbon dioxide.

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"Oh, Hermione," Ginny sighed. "If only I could be just as studious as you."

"Pick up a bloody book, Gin!" Hermione laughed.

"Can't! I'm far too busy."

"Maybe giddy, but surely not busy." The gryffindors were holding their annual girl-talk session.

"Oh, I wish I were giddy. Harry hasn't snogged me once this month! He's been acting so odd lately. Especially around that mangy boyfriend of yours. I swear sometimes that I just don't get boys."

"Well, of course not; that's silly! We're girls. Of course we don't understand guys." Hermione stretched out on her bed in the most sexual of positions. "But we understand each other," she breathed, licking her lips.

"Oh, Mione," Ginny exhaled before pouncing on her friend, and they had a grand ol' magical time.

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Ron tripped over a stone in the dark, plummeting to his potential death. "Oww," he subsequently whined. "Harry!"

"Ron! Don't be so noisy, will you?"

"Oh, Harry, it's too dark. I'm terribly frightened. Couldn't we just summon him to our room?"

"Shush, don't be foolish. It's not like we can just holler out, 'Accio Diggory!' That's utterly ridiculous. Don't be silly."

But at that very moment, a rotting corpse came scudding down the lane. Even after three years spent six feet under, it looked far better than the two living friends did. And it certainly smelled far better than Harry and Ron–combined–despite the fungi growing out of rotting eye sockets and under flaked toenails. He did look quite dashing in his burial clothes–his father had chosen the quidditch jersey his son wore upon defeating Harry. Harry'd nearly forgotten that trivial matter. His jaw dropped upon seeing his first love for the first time in, quite sadly, a very long time.

"I think he's trying to say something, Harry!"

"Oh, Ron, of course he is. He said, 'Ron! Harry! How nice to see you two again, old chaps! How's Hogwarts been? How's Cho? What's happened since I died?'"

"Oh, sorry, I've got a bit of a plug in my ears. Musn't've heard it."

Harry seemed to be ignoring his friend as he continued his conversation with the late Cedric Diggory. "Nothing much has happened. Except Voldemort came back, the Order of the Phoenix was restored, Sirius died, I started dating Ginny, Ron started dating Hermione, and Snape killed Dumbledore. Not much to fuss over, don't worry, Ced. May I call you Ced? Good. Ron lets me call him pookie now."

Ron's cheeks flushed and turned the bright red colour of his robes. "Harry! I thought that was between you and me," he uttered through clenched teeth. But Harry still seemed engrossed in conversation with Cedric.

"Mauve? Oh, yes, what a brilliant colour. I like it best, as well."

When the two brought the body back into Hogwarts, every student nearly stopped in his or her tracks. Every student, that is, except for Draco Malfoy.

"Mmmyessssedric, how are ya, ol' pal? Wheredja go? That was an awfuuuulllylooong lavatory break," he noted, still in the nude, and still pissed as hell. The blonde heartthrob staggered away without waiting for a response after some sort of shiny object caught his eye.

First year girls swooned at the sight so beautiful to behold–that of Cedric Diggory, of course. Not even the living Draco matched him in his handsomeness. Most had forgotten how much more handsome he looked alive. Of course, only a select few left at the school had seen him whilst still breathed.

The euphoria was quickly broken by the familiar footsteps, no, stomps, of their favorite know-it-all. Hermione held her wand firmly in her right hand, pointing it straight at Harry. Her other hand was clenched tightly in a fist, matching her ground teeth. She nearly knocked over a cluster of second-years in her rage, which seemed to emanate from those brown eyes Ron found so beautiful before he had his, er, epiphany.

"Alright!" she screamed, shaking her wand in the air, switching between Harry and Ron. "Which one of you did it? Which one of you two brutes brought that filthy corpse into Hogwarts?"

"Oh, no, Hermione. You are sorely mistaken. This is Cedric! Cedric Diggory! You knew 'im!" Ron answered, obliviously.

Her teeth clenched more firmly. "Yes, dear, I can tell. But, if you do recall, he died quite a few years ago."

"Yes," Harry interrupted his best friend's goggling, "but he's alive once more! I swear it! He's spoken to me with his very own tongue." Harry's eyes widened. "I did absolutely nothing to him! One moment, Ron and I were in the woods, and the next, here ol' Cedric stood, looking smashing as ever, if I do say so myself!"

Hermione shot her oldest friend a rotten glare. "I'm afraid I have no choice but to pretend as if I believe you, even though I have yet to hear Mr. Diggory say a word. Don't mistake me, of course I don't actually believe you, but I'd rather not know what you two scallywags plan to do with him."

"Are you positive, Hermione? Because you're invited as–"

"Ron! Remember our promise!"

"Oh yes, sorry, no girls allowed."

And with that, Hermione stormed off, not noticing the attractive naked boy cackling in the corner.


	3. The Intrinsic Problem

A dark figure sat complacently atop his throne. But there was trouble afoot.

"My liege..." a rat-like man said adoringly.

"Silence!" Voldemort twiddled his long, grotesque fingers. "We needed that boy."

"The Potter boy?"

"Avada Kedavra!" With a flash of green light, Wormtail was dead. "See what happens when such a wizard disobeys me?" The Dark Lord let out a horrifying cackle. "Somebody, dispose of his body. You may have as much...er ... fun with it as you wish." A dozen death eaters scrambled for the mousy stud, but Voldemort continued. "No, no, of course not the Potter boy. I've never truly needed him, just felt as though I had to scare him. I don't believe in prophecies. But I did need to kill his father. He was just an afterthought. And if you remember correctly, I gave his mother a chance to live. That bitch has laid me so many times..." Voldemort trailed off in bitter nostalgia. "She did things I'd never seen before... things I thought humanly impossible... my sweet Merlin..." He paused again. "All sexual exploits aside, the Potter boy has nonetheless failed me again. As some of you fools may know, he unearthed the Diggory boy." There was a gasp throughout the hall. "He thinks his dear friend Cedric's death was merely for show. Ha, boyish foolishness. But even moreso, we needed him dead for at least four years. And as you know, it's only been three.

"Potter may be surprised at just how positively shaggable Cedric appears. I assure you, however, that he would have looked ten times better had we not laid him–er, I mean, laid that curse on him." Voldemort looked around nervously. "Hey, Malfoy, that is a positively stunning green bracelet. Did you get it at Harry Potter night at Barnes and Noble?"

"Er... yes. Yes, I did."

"Avada Kedavra!" With another green flash, Draco's father was dead. "Nobody," he paused indignantly, "is to attend a Harry Potter night. At any bookstore. Is that understood?" Another pause. "They make me look bad." Without any direction, a hundred death eaters leapt for Malfoy's body. "Hey!" They all stopped in their tracks. "This one's for me." Voldemort walked over to the late Death Eater's body, invisibility cloak in hand. He had helped him escape Azkaban; now the favor would be returned. "Oh, it's been too long, Lucius," he said before donning the cape. His death eaters watched in amazement.

Invisibly, Voldemort continued to preach to his followers. "Yes, Diggory was a remarkable wizard. Even by such a young age." The Dark Lord was beginning to sound out of breath. "But he possessed something else, something more important, unnnnngghhhh especially to me. Something that would win me this war. Uhhhh uungghhhh errrrrr, and my permanent immortality ooooh! Ohhh! Yessss, yessss, that's it. Oooooh, yesss, uunnnghhh UHHH YES! YES! OOH, YES! Ahhhh, yess. Yessss, ohhh, that feels lovely. Yesss. Ooooh. Ooh."

Voldemort's quick breathing subsided and he spoke again. "Now then. All this time, the Potter boy's tried to thwart my plans, but he has yet to decipher my true motives." There was some rustling and the sound of a zipper before he pulled off the cloak, revealing flustered, sweat-drenched cheeks. He cleared his throat. "My true motives, being those of the resurrection of Mr Diggory. So finally, Potter has succeeded. You see, when he was a babe, and by he, I mean Diggory, I was still quite powerful and skilled. I altered his genetic makeup. I altered him so that he would be even more ravishing than what that compilation of chromosomes his rather mediocre parents gave him intended. But I did not do this merely so one day I could... er... have my way with him. Oh no. I did it so that four years posthumously, I would be able to unearth him and extract his sexiness, to insert it within me. You'd be surprised how much soul-splitting can take away from your attractiveness," he added as a side-note. "And then, after intrinsically combining his sexiness with mine, death eaters and aurors alike would gravitate towards me, and the whole wizarding world would be under my command and at my dispense!" The Dark Lord subsequently cackled, leading the whole room to do the same.

"But Potter, Potter has finally prevented my true intents. We must stop him before he molests Cedric, for there is another factor in his curse. Although we can bury him for another four years and still reap the benefits of his resurrection, if the Diggory boy is sodomized by Gryffindor flesh, he will forever be immaculate. We will never be able to proceed with our goals, and must find another future stunningly attractive boy to genetically alter before birth. And thus, the cycle would continue, and we run the risk of another Harry Potter getting in our way. It would be much easier to just kill the boy once and for all. I volunteer Severus."

But Severus was not at the meeting. Severus was still in bed with Draco, much to Voldemort's chagrin.


	4. The Horrific Howler

**A/N: **Sorry for the short chapter. Haha, not like anyone's reading it, anyway. Ah, that's a bitter lie: thanks to lulunz, I really appreciated the feedback. This one's for you.

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It was the morning after they'd "done the deed," and Harry had a howler on its merry way. When it started shouting, his cheeks flushed from embarrassment. What was more surprising, though, than the actual howler, was the fact that it was from Aunt Petunia. But how on earth could she have learned to use owls?

_Harry Potter!_

_You scum! You rotten boy! I knew you were never any good, I just _knew_ it, and it wasn't just because you came from that bonkers sister of mine. Harry Potter, this is the last straw! I've had it with you! I ought to have you hanged for this! And I will, trust me, if it's the last thing I do._

Uh-oh. What had he done this time to anger the foul beast? He assumed he'd find out, and thus, kept reading.

_You're probably wondering what on earth you did wrong. I'll admit, you were never the sharpest knife in the box. I never expected anything more from you. But your influence on my poor Dudley... I ... I ... I can barely bring myself to write it! Do you know what he's done? He's gone off and become a–a–a... a PORNOGRAPHY STAR! Evidently, he's taken a liking to... wizard-pig fetishes. This, Potter, is all your fault. I hold you accountable for every single movie-making second that my baby Dudley is waving his dick in front of the camera. If you do not rectify this... this _travesty _within the next two weeks, I am hereby removing you from Hogwarts. And then, you'll wish you were never born! (Which probably would have been all the much better!)_

_Adoringly yours,_

_Aunt Petunia_

Dudley? A porn star? This was incredulous. For one, he'd always thought Dudley a virgin. Secondly, he'd always thought Dudley was never refined enough to experiment with bestiality. And thirdly, who'd want to see that fat boy's genitalia? Disgusting! He had to stop it–not for Petunia's sake (she'd probably done some professional "acting" herself, that whore), but for the sake of humanity. After all, nobody liked a lardarse. He didn't know what he'd do if one day, while flipping channels in search of wizard-pig porn, he'd come across Dudley's needle dick. Probably Avada Kedavra himself.

"Ron," he whispered, tentatively. "We've got to do something." Harry passed his best friend the howler, and after an hour and a half of reading, Ron turned a blank white and nodded his head.


	5. Snape, Ebonics, and a Dudley Decision

**A/N: **Thanks to everyone for the great reviews. Glad I could spew out blasphemous rants and raves at the expense of hilarity. I'm truly honored. Just a few names to throw out there: Lulunz, imakeeper, RobynLesko, akina-kisa... if I've forgotten anybody, Avada-Kedavra me.

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_Potter,_

_See me in my office. 8 PM, sharp._

_Profizzle Snizzle_

Harry swallowed hard. A meeting with Snape, who now apparently was familiar with ebonics, could be devastating. He could barely eat all day. He fooled Ron, but when Hermione asked him what was doing his head in, he could tell she didn't believe his excuse that he was on the rag. Couldn't fancy why--she used it all the time; why couldn't he? Girls.

Finally the time came and Harry entered the dungeons. Snape was waiting patiently at his desk, twirling a long quill at the tips of his longer fingers. "Potter," he said coldly.

Harry stuttered. "Professor... I... I... that stain on your cloak was a complete accident, I swear!" Snape said nothing. "I didn't even know it was yours! I thought it was Dumbledore's! Honest!"

"Silence!" Snape bellowed. "Mr Potter, your beloved Dumbledore had cloaks similar to mine. It's true that we shared many a manly shopping trip. He was always so stylish, that man... Looked great in leather pants, let me tell you that. But that's aside from the p-p-p-pizzle. Point! I said point!"

"Professor, I wasn't aware you knew ebonics," Harry said softly.

"I don't!" The greasy man roared. "It's just... a little problem I've always had... like bed-wetting, except ten times cooler." Snape looked solemnly to his lap. "I think you know why you're here. And no, it doesn't have anything to do with my soiled cloaks, but thank you for telling me; now I'll make sure to no longer wear clothes. It was my only cloak." Harry looked confused, and yet, slightly aroused. "Yes, Potter," he said with a hint of boredom in his voice, "I'm a hobo. Okay? There, I said it. Tell me, were you at all surprised?"

Harry gulped. "Yes, sir."

"You wonder where I picked up ebonics, Potter? I'll tell you. When I was a child, before I came to Hogwarts, I lived on the streets of London for quite some time. You know, sewing cloaks from tablecloths I found in dumpsters... It was a wretched experience, but I'll tell you, I was the chic-est hobo around. By nine, I'd lived out the muggle musical Rent in its entirety. Except without the AIDS. Well, okay, that's a lie; I do have AIDS. But without the shitty music."

Harry stared at his professor in amazement. "I-I-I'm sorry, sir. I guess I underestimated your hobo abilities." He looked down shamefully.

"You betchyo arse you did, boy! Er, excuse me. Yes, you did, Mr Potter. As did your father and his friends. But let's put bitterness aside. They're dead now; that's all that matters." Snape smiled complacently.

"Um, professor? Is that all you wanted to tell me? What a waste of a precious ten minutes I could have spent with Ced-er, I mean, set. Setting the table. Setting the Gryffindor table." He thought he saw a glimmer of passion in Snape's cold, beady eyes upon the brief mention of Cedric.

"No, Potter, I was wondering whether or not you knew anything about this." Snape threw a videotape across the desk.

Harry read the title aloud, but had a bit of trouble, as he was largely illiterate. "Hairy... Potter... hey that's my name!" He smiled triumphantly. "But it's spelled wrong..." The boy looked confused.

"Potter!"

"Okay, okay. It says: Hairy Potter... and... th-th-th-" he was having a great deal of trouble on this particular word, "the! The! Hairy Potter and the... Half... Bloody... Pork! Hairy Potter and the Half Bloody Pork!" Then it dawned on him. "This sounds too much like a chick-flick to me."

"Potter! It's pornography, and it stars your fat cousin and his potential dinner, and it's _mocking _me!" Snape bellowed deeply from his gut.

"Oh, yes, professor. I'm already on it. I'm going to find a way to fix him." Harry paused. "But it is peculiar... Professor? How did you know what it was about?"

"Uh... er... That's none of your bloody business, Harry P. Er, sorry, Potter. What I do in my spare time with Malf–malfunctioning muggle tapes–is beyond the capacity of your simple mind." Harry nodded his head, knowingly. _My, I never knew Snape to be so technologically inclined as to be able to fix muggle tapes!_ He thought. "Potter, do you understand the seriousness of this issue? I doubt you do." He paused, clearly bored. "You need not merely _fix _your porky cousin, to pardon a pun. You must kill him. I order that."

Harry stood there, astonished. "But... but... I'm too weak to conjure a killing curse!"

"I am aware of this. Thus, you must kill him by muggle means." Snape leaned over to whisper in Harry's ear. "I know a place where muggles almost always die. You can hold him hostage there."

"Where, professor?" Harry stared at Severus intently.

"_Gunpoint," _he whispered satanically, and by then Harry had made his decision to kill Dudley.


	6. The Plot Thickens

**A/N:** Glad to hear people are enjoying my 100 percent politically incorrect nonsense. Perhaps I should start a C2?

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_  
_

_Meanwhile, in the Gryffindor Common Room..._

Hermione ran a brush through her hair once, sighing deeply when it became entangled in the fetid mass. "Oh well," she sighed aloud, hiding the raveled brush with a clump of hair from the other side of her head. "There," she sighed yet again, clearly content with her concealment. She whipped her hair around, consequently knocking Luna unconscious despite the fact that Miss Lovegood was standing a good five feet behind her. Hermione checked Luna's pulse, affirming, "I guess it's time for a hair cut." But when a burp escaped her airway, her tone became far more solemn. She decided to consult Ron about this. Surely he would understand.

She moved quickly, taking feathers to Mercury's feet, and in the process, kicking Luna's face in and leaving her dead on the floor. She dashed to the boys' room, kicked the portrait in (much to the Fat Lady's chagrin... she lost a few pounds, needless to say) and headed for Ron's cubicle. But Ron was nowhere to be found.

"Ron!" She cried desperately. "Ronald Weasley!"

"Unnnghhh," a voice moaned from the bathroom. "Muunnghhh!"

_Not again,_ thought Hermione as she made a dash to the door. "_Alohomora!"_ The spell did nothing. _How could Ron have conjured up the magic necessary to resist an unlocking charm?_

"Ron!" She would have to resort to talking him out of it. "Your life is _not _spiraling downwards into a black abyss! Put your razor away!" She let out an impassioned whine. "We can talk this over! We can get through this! Ron, hold on if you feel like letting go! And turn that devil music off!"

"Unngghhhh HermionUNNNGHHEEEEE do NOT uuuhhhhhnnggg COME UNNGHHH in..."

"Ron! I have a matter of dire importance to discuss with you!"

The last moan came, and then it seemed as though Ron started panting. "Bloody hell! Can't you just wait a Merlin-forsaken second and let a man have his peace?" Hermione heard the sound of zipping robes. Just then, she thought it appropriate to knock down the door. She was getting very good at kicking things in such a fashion as to open them.

With a crash, the old wooden door came tumbling down like the walls of Jericho, splintering into half a million shards of oak. But more surprising to Hermione than her inherent strength was the sight she then beheld–none other than that of Ronald Weasley shirtless and flushed, standing beside a putrid, yet still stunningly handsome, naked Cedric Diggory. She let out a frightful scream.

"_Silencio!" _With that, the noise stopped, and a panicked Ron pulled a shirt over his head. "Please, Hermione, you'll wake the whole school! Oh Merlin, don't tell Harry! I still love you, as well!"

But his pleas were useless. A silent Hermione sped out of the water closet, knocking unconscious and consequently murdering Neville, and anyone else in her path, which happened to be Seamus, Dean, the Creevey twins, Parvati, and Draco Malfoy, who was still running starkers throughout the halls. But, fortunately, the vile and sexy Malfoy blood still coursing through his veins rejuvenated him and thus, he was the sole survivor of Hermione's unintentional wrath.

With a thud she found herself staring into the black-robed chest of Professor Snape. He snarled, and then with strong, pale arms, pushed her away. "_Finite Incantatem," _he recited softly, a cold glare paradoxically burning in his black eyes.

Hermione sputtered. "I–I–professor!"

"Miss Granger, may I ask why you are running through the halls, murdering my students at whim? Five points from Gryffindor," Snape announced darkly.

Hermione furrowed her brow. "But sir, there were only seven of them who actually died–Malfoy's sex appeal revived him; I saw it! I believe five points is far too steep–perhaps two would be more appropriate?"

Such a comment garnered a sly smirk from her professor. "A hundred points from Gryffindor for arguing with a professor. And ten more for absolutely no reason at all. And by ten, I surely mean ten hundred." Hermione gasped. "There is, Miss Granger, a way for you to..." Snape's lips contorted into a purely evil grin. "Appease such a punishment."

"Professor? Are you asking me to..."

Snape nodded before ripping off his robes, only to reveal a second pair underneath. "Oh, pity, looks as though I forgot these were on as well. Nevertheless–"

Hermione was unfazed. "Where's Harry?" She asked urgently.

Snape's knowing smile quickly turned to a cold scowl and a bulge in his robes diminished. "Oh, you filthy mudblood! Five million and a half points from Gryffindor for making me lose my, er... _excitement_," he said with relish. "Ah, I suppose it wasn't quite time anyway. Very well, you may be able to help your mediocre wizard of a friend in his quest for my vengeance. Mr Potter has gone on his way to murder Dudley Dursley."

But just as Severus was beginning to explain Harry's feats, Hermione erupted into a man, sending him fleeing like a little girl. A very sexy little girl.


	7. Morning Sickness

**A/N: **Yeah, this one's pretty long. Proceed at your own risk.

xxxxxxxxxxx

No sooner had Snape informed Hermione of Harry's whereabouts, than had Hermione began preparing Ron for the mission. She'd evidently completely forgotten of the evening's earlier mishaps, or perhaps she simply ignored them. Ron seemed ecstatic to be on his way, but Hermione sensed a bit of nostalgia in his tone.

"Ron," she prodded. "What's got your knickers in a knot?"

"Oh, nothing. What makes you think that?"

"Well," Hermione began once more, "you have yet to even touch your plate. And we both know how much you love your mashed potatoes, Ronniekins."

Ron turned the color of the beets still sitting leisurely before him. "Hermione," he scolded in a stressed whisper, "I asked you not to call me that in public."

"No, you asked me not to talk about Mister Oopsies' problems in public. Ronniekins was positively up for grabs." At this, several of the girls at the table snickered, but Hermione failed to notice. "So, tell me Ron, what's doing you in?"

"It's just that," Ron emitted a long sigh. "It's just that I'm feeling a bit blue, you know, about leaving Hogwarts and all. What if we never come back? What if we're sent to Azkaban for killing Dudley? What if tonight is the last chance we've got to do everything we've... ever wanted to do?" At that, he fiddled with a large bottle in his pocket that nobody had noticed.

"Don't be stupid, Ron. Harry's the one who'll be doing the killing, not us, and besides, he swore to use no wizarding means."

"I know, it's just–" at that moment, Draco Malfoy came strutting up to the table. Surprisingly, he was wearing a form of clothing. Unsurprisingly, he was clad in a loin cloth. Both Hermione's and Ron's jaws dropped. "M-m-m-m-m-malfoy!" Ron whispered.

"T-t-t-t-t-today, junior!" He retorted sardonically. "What are you fine young blood traitors doing this finer eve? Attending another funeral?"

"Draco Malfoy!"

"Ah, yes. I actually came here to have a word with you, mudblood. That is, if your little Ronniekins and his troubled pecker still can't remember how to conjure up a petrificus curse."

"How dare–" Hermione began, but was cut off prematurely.

"I won't let you!" Ron yelled, putting his foot down, finally. "Er–I mean," he began as Malfoy's grin widened. "I have something for you," he whispered finally.

"'Ere that?" Malfoy shouted across the hall. "The Weasel has something for Draco Malfoy!"

"Please," Ron pled. "Please, for the love of Merlin, shut your mouth. It's merely a token... of my appreciation. Here," Ron fumbled with the bottle in his pocket. He produced a gleaming, vibrating green bottle of champagne that looked as if it were over a hundred years old. "Only the finest, I assure you. You can even test it with magic if you don't trust me–" Malfoy snatched the bottle from his hand.

"This is an insult. 78 alcohol? That's less than butterbeer. You are truly an amateur, Weasel. Now then, to the mudblood." Malfoy paused and shot her a knowing glance. "I'd like to have a word with you. Would you care to accompany me to the astronomy tower?"

Hermione furrowed her brow. "In doing so, I'd insist you call me by my real name."

"Right. Sure thing, Carpet-Muncher Granger."

"You are tireless, you know that?" Hermione complained as he ripped her from her seat and dragged her by her massive hair knot to the astronomy tower. Oh, what a sight to see: a Slytherin boy in a loin cloth with a huge bottle in hand dragging a Gryffindor girl prefect by her hair as she merely practiced spells and lectured to bypassing onlookers.

He finally released her when they'd reached the spot of Albus Dumbledore's fall at the hands of Severus Snape. "Now then," he exhaled, whipping out the bottle of champagne Ron had given him. "Have a drink, why don't you?" When Hermione declined, he held her down and poured half of the bottle down her throat anyway. "Ah, that feels better, neh?"

Hermione was already starting to feel a bit woozy. "Mmmm yessssss."

"Now, how about we have a nice shag?"

"Dracooooo, you're so funnnnyyy!" Hermione hiccupped before having another swig or two or seventeen of Ron's mysterious potion.

"Well, is that a yes?"

"Ummmmm I'm going to savveeee this later foorr," Hermione concluded, putting the bottle to the side. "What you wannnt?"

"To have raging hot animal sex with you," he said cooly, and paused briefly before continuing. "Hermione," he said with relish.

"Mmmm YES! I'm Hermione! You waaaannna shag like yeahhh..." Her voice trailed off and she removed her shirt, thanking Merlin she'd remembered to shave. The whole turning-into-a-man thing was really getting to her. Draco gasped, ripped his loin-cloth off, and threw her up against the wall to brutally penetrate her. He left her there unconscious for the rest of the evening.

But she awoke with a massive hangover at around 3 AM, cold and naked on the floor. However, much to her pleasure, she noticed the vibrating bottle a mere two feet away from her. _This should do me well_, she thought. _To pardon a pun..._ Within seconds, she was banging the bottle, and did not notice the miniature explosion within her about halfway through. She figured afterwards she ought to get dressed and find Ron.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

"WHAT!" The Dark Lord shouted at one of his followers. "Potter's Weasley friend did _what _to my dear Cedric?"

"Er–sir, he, he...er–had anal intercourse with him," a death eater confirmed, cowering in the corner and shaking violently.

"_AVADA KEDAVRA!"_ Voldemort shouted purposefully, sending a flash of green light at the man and hitting him squarely in the chest. "Now then, that is what anyone should get if they deliver foul news. However, if you conceal the truth from me, you shall die, too." He paused, running a cold, pale finger against his chin. "The logic in this is simply that no one shall have foul news to deliver to me at any time, because you should all be doing your jobs so well that there is no need for any mishaps. Not that I should need any logic to explain myself."

"No, my liege!" Came various shouts from the crowd to Voldemort upon his throne.

"Good," Voldemort concluded with confidence. "Very well, then. There is a way we can prevent any further molestation. Diggory can be preserved so long as Potter does not touch him, and to my knowledge, the Weasley boy has been the only one to do so. If we could only retrieve him before Potter touches him, we'd still have a chance. If not..." The Dark Lord's voice trailed off. "There's still another way. Although I implanted sexiness into Cedric Diggory's genome, he is not the only one who displayed the phenotype. Oh, no. Potter's long-time rival, Draco Malfoy, who, as you all know, is now under my orders, also was a candidate for such sexiness, although I had never thought of it. For him, no curse would be needed. We'd simply kill him and extract his sexiness, and hope that it would have the same effects as my more powerful, artificial sexiness derived from Mr Diggory. Perhaps, if we could ensure the sexiness of both boys, my power would be all the greater. Thusly," Voldemort took another pause so that his subjects might grovel before him. "I entrust Severus Snape with my duties."

This time, Severus was at his master's dispense, but his black corneas retracted at his lord's demands. Killing Draco would mean murdering the only boy who'd ever meant anything to him... "Yes, master," he agreed to his best advantage, and spent the night solemnly thinking of ways to avoid his darkest feat.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was the mid-afternoon at Hogwarts, and Hermione was still in her room. Ron assumed that she was preparing for duty, when really, she was hovered over the toilet seat with a Fred and George's Witch pregnancy test. They worked much faster than human ones, you see. And, predictably, it read "positive." How would she explain this to Ron? They hadn't shagged in a good month or so. Although, he probably would never notice either way...

"Hermione! Honestly, we must be on our way," Ron complained, seemingly hurried, when really, he just wanted to reach Hogsmeade by five o'clock to get his happy pills.

"Ron," Hermione sobbed. She burst out of the bathroom door, finally. "Ron, there's somebody I need to see." She whipped her hair around, knocking him unconscious on the ground, and ran for Malfoy's common room.

Before entering his room, she listened to him belt out the Weird Sisters' newest hit, "My Imperio'd Valentine." Sighing gently, she kicked open the door. Magic was so below her.

"Malfoy, we need to talk."

"Granger! I'm not decent!" Malfoy bellowed and subsequently ripped off all of his clothes. "There. Now what were you saying, mudblood?"

"Malfoy, I... I took a pregnancy test this morning, and I believe that you're the father of my future child."

Malfoy stood there flabbergasted. "No! That simply cannot be! I used protection, both wizardly and those of all the muggle means I could think of! And then, afterwards, I performed an abortion on you, just in case! And then, I punched you in your ovaries! And then, I kicked in your uterus! And then, I gave you a tranny operation! This cannot be! Take another test!"

"I've already taken fourteen–"

"I am _NOT _the father! I want the DNA tested! We're going to Madam Pomfrey right this instant! I will _NOT _have a half-breed attached to the Malfoy name! I'll kill it! I won't support you at all!" With that, Malfoy dragged a mortified Hermione to the hospital wing, still naked, garnering even more gaping jaws and coos from onlookers. Upon reaching it, he threw Hermione on one of the beds, opened her legs, and pointed. "This is what I want you to test, Pomfrey! Take a look at this whore! See if she's impregnated with my child!" He screamed to an unsuspecting Madame Pomfrey, who was curing a first year of witch-pox.

"Er, yes, just a moment," the frazzled witch nurse affirmed. She walked over to where Hermione lay and did a series of tests. "Oh... oh my! Merlin's beard! I've never seen anything like it!"

"Well, I always knew that my offspring would be unbelievably attractive, no matter the woman, but I never suspected–" Malfoy was cut off.

"This... this is of no human origin! Miss Granger, you are impregnated with a _dragon!_"

Just as Madame Pomfrey said that, Ron had stumbled into the room, but upon hearing her last word, he turned bright red and stumbled out.

"Wait! Come back, Ron!" Hermione yelled after him, and Peeves happily obliged and brought Ron, kicking and screaming, back into the hospital wing. "Ron, I saw you give that bottle to Malfoy... what was in it?"

"Er... butterbeer?"

"I know that was not _butterbeer_," Malfoy sputtered.

Ron turned a bright red to match his quidditch robes he wore for confidence. "I... er... I... Charlie... Charlie gave it to me."

"And?" Hermione pressed, now somewhat alarmed.

"And... er... I think... I think it had some," Ron gulped, "Dragon? Things? In it...?" he said quietly in a questioning air.

"_YOU GAVE ME A BOTTLE OF DRAGON SEMEN!" _Malfoy screamed, clearly enraged. _"SECUMSPEC–" _

"_Prior Incantato," _Hermione bellowed, sending the curse back into Malfoy's wand. "Explain yourself," she commanded, glaring at Ron. "Ronniekins." Her brow furrowed once more.

"Well, er.." Ron scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "See, the thing's that... I... Well, dragon... semen... has the power to turn wizards into sort of... sex maniacs, you see? It doesn't harm them when properly ingested, I swear! I just... wanted... well, it was our last night, and I was feeling a bit nostalgic, so..." Ron looked down into his lap.

"You wanted to have _homosexual _relations with me, Weasel?" Malfoy yelled. "I am _not_ a fag!"

"Well, I mean, everyone knows about you and Snape, and Buckbeak is a bloke too, so I only assumed–"

"How did you know about Buckbeak?" Draco asked, alarmed.

"Well, Hagrid said he saw–"

"You know what? I don't even want to know. This is just too absurd for me. I'm leaving." And with that, Malfoy stormed out the door, still starkers.

Hermione ignored the fact that Ron had just come out of the closet, and Ron ignored the fact that Hermione had somehow masturbated with a bottle of dragon semen.

"Well, Miss Granger, you have three choices. You can either abort the dragon, put it up for adoption, or keep it. We offer various programs at the school to assist you in your choice. Many of your friends have attended such counseling sessions right under your nose. Pansy Parkinson, Cho Chang, Parvati Patil–"

"That's enough, Madame. I'd rather just abort it," Hermione concluded. But Ron had other plans.

"No! You can't do that! Abortion is murder! I'll kill you if you do it!" He screamed.

"_Petrificus Totalus!" _Hermione uttered, and Ron froze completely. "Yes, please, go ahead with it."

And thus, Hermione's dragon was aborted.


	8. Fuck tha Police!

**A/N: **Haha, wow, thanks to everyone for the reviews, again. Thank you, thank you, thank you! (And now for some shameless pimpage of _Charms and Charisma_, my _blossoming _DM/HG fic, which is in desperate need of reviews... okay, glad that's over!) Oh, and, Jesus Christ Superstar is not mine. Nor is "How the Grinch Stole Christmas." Not that I should have to explain this, because disclaimers on a website that hosts stories SPECIFICALLY to use OTHER PEOPLE'S WORK are sort of, well, how do I put this nicely? _Pointless, stupid, retarded, illogical, dumb, fatuous, thoughtless, purposeless, _and _GAY!_ Okay, sorry if I offended any homosexual people out there. I meant "gay" as in the derogatory term that has been warped to have such a meaning by in-the-closet cowboys who also happen to be ignorant, bible-thumping nazis. Not "gay" as in I-like-it-up-the-butt gay. Because I don't have a problem with that; it's like racism. Racism is hatred for a group of people that cannot change its genome. Scientists are very, very close right now to proving the existence of a "gay gene," or, rather, a "gay section" on a certain chromosome. And plus, studies have been done to show similarities between pheromone reaction to smell in gay men and women, further suggesting scientific evidence for homosexuality. But why, you ask, would evolution, by nature, condone such a gene, since homosexuals don't normally reproduce to pass on their DNA? (Actually, if you're asking because you think god hates homosexuals, you probably are too stupid to accept evolution as fact anyway.) Well, it has been theorized that the advantage lies in the heterozygous male. Let's just simplify this and pretend that sexuality genetics don't have anything to do with codominance, epistasis, and pleiotropy. (But my example will have to do with incomplete dominance... you'll see) So. Let's make it like this. Sstraight and sgay. (Don't worry about it if you're not gene-t-astic like I am. They do weird things like use the same letters. Yeah, it's gay, I know.) Okay, so a homozygous dominant male would have the alleles SS. Straight, straight, straight to the extreme, straight hardcore, straight as a line that isn't curved. A homozygous recessive male would have the alleles ss. Gay, gay, gay to the max, gay like butt-sex in a guy named Max, gay as the sky in the home on the range. But what happens when you have a heterozygous male? As in, Ss? No, that is not Severus Snape. Therein lies the advantage, as I so stated before. Because, due to a possible incomplete dominance, a heterozygous male would have some homosexual traits, like sensitivity, etc., but still be straight, and therefore, get more chicks, and, therefore, win at the game of natural selection. They should definitely make that into a board game. I don't know why I just said all that. It was gay.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

There was a death that night at Hogwarts. And not just any death, no. It was a _murder. _

The murderer? Severus Snape. The murder_ee_? Lucius Malfoy.

"Lucius Malfoy? But he was already dead!" you say. No. Scream. You scream it wildly as though you are some wild wild-person living in the wild. But oh, how very wrong you are. You merely _thought _he was dead. Well, you thought wrong, schizo! "But you already wrote about killing him!" you protest vehemently. (Your arguing skills have improved drastically.) To which I respond, "Hey, everybody lies." Yeah, that's right. I _lied _to you. But he's dead now, don't worry. I swear it. And that is not a lie. _Or is it? _Now, since _you _are not an important character in _my _story, I'll kindly ask you to shut the fuck up.

Draco was running around the school screaming wildly in the manner you so rudely did above as well. He approached small children, genitalia flopping, and screamed obscenities followed by an odd sound resembling that of a person yelling "Boogity-woogity-woogity," all the while assuming drunken ninja positions.

And Severus spotted him just as he pushed a second-year into a wall and galloped away, cackling maniacally. Merlin, he was beautiful. Severus shook his head and emitted a dry sob. His fingers shook with a similar fervor as he raised his wand, remembering that he'd done the same to his beloved Albus Dumbledore a few weeks before, and remembering the hours he spent in his room cutting himself out of xXemoXx xXpainXx he experienced during the suffrage afterwards. In the election, of course, because suffrage is not the act of suffering, it is the right to vote in political elections. But he did suffer. Oh, did he suffer. And he cried crimson rivers of blood each night. Each very emo-tastic night. He was bisexual, too. (Comes in the emo package) (Hey, did you know that the word "emotional" has the slang abbreviation "emo" in it? Yeah, fantastic, I know.) (Shut up, nobody gave you the privilege to speak again.) And so, he raised his wand, closed his eyes and gulped. Those dreadful words would come any moment now. And they did. His wand vibrated with a green light, and within milliseconds...

It was a microphone. This one was for Voldemort. And for Draco.

"_Now, if I help you, it matters that you see_

_these sordid kind of things are coming hard to me!_

_It's taken me some time to work out what to do!_

_I weighed the whole thing out before I came to you!_

_I had no thought at all about my own reward;_

_I really didn't come here on my own accord._

_Just don't say I'm damned for all time!_

"_I came because I had to; I'm the one who saw_

Voldemort _can't control you like he did before,_

_and furthermore, I know that _Voldemort _thinks so, too!_

Voldemort _wouldn't mind that I was here with you!_

_I had no thought at all about my own reward;_

_I really didn't come here on my own accord._

_Just don't say I'm damned for all time!_

_... Another hour into the rock opera ..._

"_My god! I saw him; he looked three-quarters dead,_

_and he was so bad,_ _I had to turn my head!_

_You beat him so hard that he was bent and lame!_

_And I know who everybody's gonna blame!_

_I don't believe he knows I acted for our good..._

_I'd save him all this suffering if I could!_

_Don't believe! Our good! _

_And I'd save him, if I could!"_

Then, the Biblical characters Caiaphas and Annas suddenly apparated into Hogwarts, as with Dumbledore dead, his disapparation ban charm had been inactivated. Yes, the men who killed Jesus were both wizards, and were also both coincidentally nearly 2000 years old. (They had borrowed Nicholas Flamel's stone-thingy for a few days) They also had taken a particular liking to the rock opera _Jesus Christ Superstar_, mostly because Caiaphas was portrayed by a very sexy man by the name of Bob Bingham. Thus, they joined Snape's farce. Annas was the first to sing.

"_Cut the confessions, forget the excuses!_

_I don't understand why you're filled with remorse!_

_All that you've said has come to rue with a vengeance;_

_The mob turned against him! You backed the right horse."_

Then, Caiaphas transfigured into a young Bingham before belting out the notes.

"_What you have done will be the saving of everyone!_

_You'll be remembered forever for this!_

_...not only that, you've been paid for your efforts!_

_Pretty good wages for one little kiss!"_

Severus broke down.

"Draco_, I know you can't hear me, _

_but I only did what _Voldemort _wanted me to!_

Draco_, I'd sell out the nation,_

_for I have been saddled with the murder of you!_

_I have been spattered with innocent blood!_

_I shall be dragged through the slime and the mud!_

_I have been spattered with innocent blood!_

_I shall be dragged through the slime and the, slime and the, slime and the mud!_

"_I don't know how to love him;_

_I don't know why he moves me!_

_He's a man. He's just a man._

_He is not a king! He is just the same as anyone I know!_

_He scares me so. When he's cold and dead,_

_will he let me be? Does he love? Does he love me too?_

_Does he care for me?"_

And then, eyes slammed shut and thin lips quivering, Snape shouted those fateful words. _"AVADA KEDAVRA!" _White-hot green sparks shot from his wand in the direction of the naked Slytherin prefect, but suddenly, from out of nowhere, Lucius Malfoy dove in front of his son and took the blow for him. He was dead immediately.

"_MERLINFUCKER!" _Severus shrieked. _"HE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD!" _Yeah, that's right, Snape. I lied to you, too. Look who's the Merlin-fucker now!

... It's okay, baby, I didn't mean it... please come home with me tonight...

"Why, for too long, I've put up with this now. I must stop Draco from dying!" said Snape, "But how?" Then he got an idea. An _awful _idea. THE SNAPE GOT A WONDERFUL, AWFUL IDEA!

"I know _just _what to do!" the Snape laughed in his throat. And then he went and had sex with a goat! And he chuckled, and clucked, "What a great Snape-y trick! I'll dress Lucius as Draco so the latter will still suck my dick!

"All I need is Shrinking Solution..." The Snape looked around. But since Shrinking Solution is scarce, there was none to be found. Did that stop the old Snape? No! The Snape simply said, "If I can't _find _this potion, I'll _make _one instead!" So he went to his room and he accio'd his bed, and he made the solution from the top of his head!

Then he got tired of Dr Seuss and his gay bullshit, used a time-turner and forced Lucius to drink his potion, which made him grow considerably younger and look the spitting image of his only son, and then AK'd that son of a bitch. And then Annas and Caiaphas cackled and they started on their rendition of the muggle song, "Fuck Tha Police."


	9. Oh My God! They Killed Dudley!

**A/N: **Okay, guys, sorry the last chapter was so confusing. Basically, Snape had a little internal struggle with what Voldemort told him to do, which was kill Draco, and what he wanted to do, which was shag Draco. In the end, he tried to kill Draco, the boy he loved, but Lucius jumped out in front of the spell and died instead. Then, Snape decided to use a time-turner to bring Lucius back to life and make him look like Draco by using a reverse-aging potion. Oh, and I promise to come up with cleverer rhymes.

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Harry Potter was well on his way back to the Dursleys on the train when he decided, "Fuck that; I don't care if I'm not allowed to apparate. I'm the friggin' boy-who-lived, and I can do whatever the bloody fuck I want, whenever I want." And thus, he disapparated to number four Privet Drive to kill Dudley when... Could it be? He'd spotted the most typically gorgeous girl to ever set foot in the realm of _Harry Potter. _She had luscious, long, straight, blonde locks that cascaded over her petite frame, which, although nearly sickly thin, still had enough strength to hold up D-cup breasts in a tiny tank top and a considerable booty in a leather micromini.

Harry's mouth went agape until he realized she was walking towards him, in which case, he began to drool. "Harry Potter?" she asked, because for some unknown reason she knew his name. "Are you Harry Potter?"

"Y-y-y-yes, yes I am," he responded dumbly.

"I'm Auroraleieanymphoradinosaura Wilkinson... I'm the popular new Hogwarts valedictorian. I transferred from America. I've heard a lot about you," she explained, batting her long eyelashes.

"Bl-blu–bloo-blah–b-b-but how did you find me here?"

"I was just walking to the school, from America, and then I just happened to miraculously run into you, and I was wondering if you could give me directions."

"Y-y-sure! I'll even walk you the rest of the way, since I am so astounded by your beauty and intellect," said Harry. And he was going to do it, too, if it hadn't been for Hermione and Ron apparating to the sidewalk on which they stood. (Half of Ron's arm was missing because he, too, decided that he was too good for the rules.) Hermione drew her wand.

"Harry! Move aside!" she bellowed.

"Wh-what? Hermione! No! What in the name of Merlin do you think you're doing?"

"I'm going to kill that dumb bitch! And to think! Oh, if Ginny had been here! Don't you know, Harry? That's Mary Sue! The one for whom the ministry's been looking!"

"Hermione, no! Her name's Aurora–something, er...limphosauruschlamydia Wilkinson! You've got the wrong extremely sexy, extremely witty, and extremely intelligent girl who also has a superhumanly interesting personality!"

Just then, Hermione gave Ron the signal, and he whipped out his monstrous genitalia, summoning Harry to the shed that had magically appeared behind them. With a simple _"AVADA KEDAVRA," _Aurorabowelmovementsyphillis was a heap of dust on the pavement. Hermione clapped her hands together, brushing off the dirt, before jumping at a shrill, girlish scream coming from the shed. And then she remembered that was just what Ron did when he orgasmed. Oh, Ron.

As soon as the boys came out of the shed, looking very flushed, mind you, Hermione proclaimed, "Well, now that that's settled, let's get on with this Dudley-killing business. How did you say you would do it again, Harry?"

"Oh," Harry sighed, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "Well, er... Professor Snape said there was a place I could take him where muggles almost always die."

Hermione looked a bit puzzled, but Ron cut off her potential analysis with a shout of, "That's bloody brilliant!" And thus, the threesome was on its way to the Dursley abode.

And they would have made it, too, had Ron not realized he'd forgotten a very important object. Within a few seconds, Ron had apparated to and from Hogwarts, but this time, he wielded a very sexy, yet dead-looking boy in his arms. "Oi!" he shouted, and the three jolly friends were reunited once more.

But when they came upon Four Privet Drive, they were far from jovial. It might have been because Harry had such bad memories there. It could have been because they missed Hogwarts so dearly. Or, perhaps, it could have been because there was no house in the address, but instead, in its place, a gigantic Dudley Dursley with massive breasts. It looked as though he had gained at least two tons since the porno video, then implanted his extra fat into his pectoral muscles, and then gained three more tons. Ron immediately flung himself into Hermione's arms, and Harry approached the massive glob of Dudley hesitantly.

"D–du–Dudley? Is that you, mate?" he asked, clearly frightened.

Dudley didn't answer for a few minutes. Then, it took him thirty seconds longer to get his twenty-six chins out of the way to actually open his mouth to speak, or, rather, moan awfully. "MRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRHARHARMUAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAAMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAWWWWWR!"

Ron pissed his pants. Harry wasn't sure whether or not Dudley had heard him, and thus, spoke louder. "DUDLEY!" he yelled into the wind, before realizing the wind he felt was actually his most hated cousin _breaking _wind. "DUDLEY! WHAT DID YOU DO WITH AUNT PETUNIA AND UNCLE VERNON!" he hacked.

Another minute or two passed before Dudley began to move his chins to answer once more. "I AAAAATEEEE THEMMMMMMM MRARRHARHARHARHAR MUAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAA YUMMY MUMMY IN MY TUMMY! BRARHARHAR," he cackled.

Harry looked at Hermione helplessly, and she shot a condescending look back. "Oh dear," she sighed, annoyed. "Where is this place we need to take that... that thing?"

"Professor Snape said... gunpoint? He said we needed to hold Dudley hostage at gunpoint. Do you know where gunpoint is?"

Hermione kicked Harry in the face. "You ignorant prat! Gunpoint isn't a _place!_"

Ron chimed in, his pants still dripping wet. "Yeah, it's a _state of mind!_" Then Hermione punched him in his ovaries.

"Gunpoint is when you point a gun to someone, in order to shoot!" Hermione explicated.

"Well, duh," Ron sighed, and Hermione punched him in the mouth.

With both boys unconscious on the ground, Hermione had time to think. That was when she noticed a particularly good-looking boy _(my god, he's the spitting image of Cedric Diggory!) _also lying on the ground. Within seconds, she fed him to the Dudley, followed by a shed, five cows, a lawnmower, a Mexican, three dogs, seventeen goats, eight monster trucks, liquid nitrogen, a few neighbors, and, needless to say, Ron and Harry got circumcised. The Dudley was so bloated that he just died right there, and Hermione clapped her hands together, clearly satisfied with herself.


	10. Dumbledoreisgay Dot Com

**A/N: **I hope you all get the satire of it all, because I decided to put satirical things in here and there starting from the last chapter. Like the insufferable Mary Sue. And here, I will mock dumbledoreisnotdead dot com, which is, by the way, a truly abominable website.

**Disclaimer: **A certain website I may mention in my story is not actually a real website. But it could be, one day.

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Hermione brought the unconscious boy toys back to Hogwarts in a fair-mannered fashion. She shouted _"Ennervate!" _just as they reached the gates, and told the confused boys that they had fallen asleep from all that fine killin' they'd been doin'.

With the blink of an eye, the trio was in Professor Snape's office, finally able to inform him they'd done something to his likings. Snape nodded in amusement, took a few hundred points off from Gryffindor, and watched as the friends rejoiced by banging bellies and, in Harry's and Ron's cases, snogging furtively. And then it came. Those awful words.

"Professor? Do you think that Dumbledore would have been proud?" Harry asked softly, innocently awaiting the approval of his professor.

Snape grimaced and a few puddles of grease formed on his desk just below his hair.

"Professor?"

His brow furrowed once more before he spoke. "Mr Potter, being the ignorant fool you are, do you not realize that Dumbledore was never genuinely proud of you?" He said this, of course, with a mocking tone.

Harry's jaw dropped. "Yes he was! I was his favorite student!" He sounded like a three-year-old who had just lost his balloon at a carnival.

Snape smirked. "I'm sure you were. Just like Tom Riddle. Just like Severus Snape."

"But... aren't you Severus Snape?" Ron interrupted. And the Snape knocked him over the head with a potion flask and he spoke no more.

"B-b-but, Professor, what is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, could you be any _denser_, Potter? Were you blind to all those private meetings? Vacations? His flamboyant tendencies? That time you miraculously awoke in his bed?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but I don't believe I understand what you are trying to tell me."

"Does _this _arouse any awful memories?" Snape demanded, pinching Harry Potter's cute little arse.

"Oh my sweet Merlin!" This time, Hermione interrupted. She'd clearly pieced together the puzzle.

"Ah, I see the ugly manly one has solved this conundrum," Snape drawled. "Dumbledoreisnotdead dot com can blabber on about whatever pointless, irrelevant garble it chooses. But the truth of the matter is, he is dead, and the real reason I had to AK that sonuvabitch was because... well, actually, you can find out on my own website." Snape cleared his throat. "I would suggest writing this down." He allowed .3 seconds for the students to pull out their quills. "Dumbledoreisgay dot com,"he said slowly. "It should alleviate any of your doubts. I have even posted images on the website, which I would think would disturb you, but then again, you actually watched your cousin's dreadful pig-raping premiere." Then, something came over the largely senile professor. "But, DAYY-UM, dat wuz sum horny shit, yo! DAY-UM, it was dirty up the ARSE! Fo-shizzle!" He cleared his throat again. "I... I.." his pale complexion flushed a bright rose. "That _never _happened, understand?" But of course, no one was actually paying attention, because they all had run to the nearest Internet café in London to check out the website. Actually, something was still there; Ron had awoken a bit late and decided to test his apparition skills, since Hogwarts was open to disapparation now that Dumbledore was dead (or gay), and, let's just say that he circumcised himself again.

It was a truly astonishing feat. For one, none of them knew how to operate the Internet, so, therefore, they had to ask for assistance from a muggle who was a bit more than surprised at their...er... choice of a website. And it was incredible.

"_My Magical Professor Raped Me and Turned Me to the Dark Arts!11111oneoneoneoneone11!1! THIS IS MY STORY,"_ flashed across the screen in bright, sparkling letters.

Harry's eyes widened as he scrolled down the webpage. _"He told me he loved me, and I believed him, but really, he was only using me for his sick homosexual pleasures. Here's a picture of us having bum sex for the fourteenth time." _It looked all too familiar to Harry. _"I was abused as a child, and pretty unpopular in school, so I suppose I was an easy target. But the way he told me he loved me... he made me believe I was worth something, even if that something was pretty much a gay sex outlet. The outlet, of course, being my anus. And it scarred me for life, it really did. So I killed a few people and turned to the dark side, the leader of which, of course, had been molested by Albus Dumbledore himself. So Voldemort and I became pals, but then, since molestation is a terrible cycle, Voldemort started molesting me, too. So I headed straight back over to the light side, into the arms of my previously beloved professor-gone-psychopath. And I believed him again, when he told me he loved me, and of course, now we were of the appropriate age... Oh, look, here's an mpeg of our first porno shoot. Anyhoo, I finally realized I was being taken advantage of, and I was so in love with him for it that I just had to kill him. And here's a picture of me sodomizing his Avada-Kedavra'd body. Ha, don't look at that, I look fat._

"_But don't believe this hard evidence. Oh no. I've divided my website into sections, in all of which I shall quote obscure canon 'clues' of his fairydom._

"_In the first book, _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_, Dumbledore says to Harry, '... death is but the next great adventure.' This clearly means he is gay and is trying to get into Harry's pants. Because death sounds like 'dest' with a lisp, and 'dest' with a lisp rhymes with Beth, and Beth is a nickname for Elizabeth, and sometimes, if you're a really gay man, and you have a lisp, you will change your name to Elizabeth, and so, when he says that death is the next great adventure, he really means that he's boning a guy with a lisp named Elizabeth. But really, that's just so apparent from the text._

"_Also in the first book, Dumbledore says to Harry after eating one of Bertie Bott's beans, 'Alas! Earwax!' This is quite ironic, because it came only a few minutes after he told Harry, 'Your mother died to save you.' This obviously means that his mother was a slut, because 'wax' starts with a 'w,' and 'whore' starts with a 'w,' so when she died to save Harry, she was really having sexual relations with Voldemort. And Voldemort was Tom Riddle, and Peeping Toms look in on people doing things in private, like, say, having gay sex. So when he complains about the earwax, he's really complaining about how his neighbors caught him shagging Tom Riddle up the arse. Clearly._

"_But more disturbing is what Dumbledore tells Cornelius Fudge in the fourth book of our biography. 'I assume that you are referring to the pains Harry has been experiencing in his scar?' He means the scar in his rectal tissue when Dumbledore boned him so hard it ripped. Duh._

"_And in the same book, Dumbledore speaks to me. He says, 'you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready... if you are prepared...' Nobody actually knows what this means because J.K. Rowling has not released the seventh book. Nobody, that is, except for me. Because I know that he was asking me if I was ready to experiment with bondage that night._

"_Finally, and most obviously, Dumbledore tells the school after Cedric Diggory's death, '... we are all facing dark and difficult times.' But he really means that just he is facing dark and difficult times, not 'we.' And 'dark and difficult times' is a pseudonym for 'my gay lover.' And, it just so happens that he is facing his gay lover in the dark. Because they are having sex."_

Harry's eyes widened. "It's... it's true..." he whispered, and Ron consoled him with an

embrace, and then he got an erection.

"It's okay, Harry. You're clearly not alone," Hermione cooed, and then Harry broke down in tears.

"I'm _glad _he's dead!" he screamed in his raspy voice that twelve-year-old girls all around the globe found so positively sexy. "I'm _glad _dumbledoreisnotdead dot com _i_s a load of horse dung!" And then the sobs continued.

And then Harry had to make the choice between what was easy and what was wrong. And he chose the former because he was a good, honest boy and didn't like to do bad things.


	11. MAKEOVER!

**A/N: **Allusions to Lucifer and Jack Merridew refer to rather satanic characters in Milton's _Paradise Lost_ and Golding's _Lord of the Flies_, respectively, as do the allusions to celebration and buzzing in Pandemonium. I liked the way it sounded in this farce, so I might use it again in another work. Say, perhaps, _Charms and Charisma_, which you all should read, or else.

**Disclaimer:** Disclaimers are retarded; this is FANFICTION! Of _course _it's going to be plagiarizing another author's characters. However, there is a more prevalent disclaimer I need to suggest that is not covered by the prerequisite: I do not own _Grease_. And I don't wish I did, because then, I'd be _really_ old.

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He sat atop his throne in an appalling image akin to that of Lucifer at his perch in Pandemonium or Jack Merridew at the head log of his frivolous tribe, only, he had half the heart of Satan, which amounted to nearly none at all, and twice the tactics of the boy tyrant, Jack. And all his minions, instead of celebrating in ecstasy and festivities, trembled in fear before the horror that was their lord, their Lord Voldemort.

But Voldemort was feeling pimp-ass, sick-nasty that day and wanted to prove to his blind puppets that he, too, had a sense of humour.

"Dolohov," he bellowed, curling his gnarled, long finger in a "come-hither" manner to one of the most powerful wizards in the world. Antonin Dolohov, now so estranged that he could not even shake fervently in his boots, stepped forward and bowed to his master. "Antonin, Antonin, Antonin, what a pity 'tis that you have betrayed the Dark Lord."

Wide, glassy eyes stared at Voldemort in disbelief. "Never," he whispered.

"_SILENCE_!" With one word the buzzing in the Pandemonium quelled immediately. "Ah, see, what use are spells when you're so powerful that people will obey your every whim with regular communication? Anyhoooo," Voldemort continued gaily, because he was, in fact, gay, "This is what happens to those who betray the Dark Lord!" He eyed an infuriated and frightened Dolohov with shaky confidence. _"AVADA KEDAVRA!"_ A white-hot green light shot squarely into the Death Eater's chest and he gasped... suddenly turning into a scantily-clad woman!

"My liege! I knew you could never do such an illogical harm! I am forever grateful!" Antonin Dolohov kissed his master's feet in his cutesy, sparkling magenta g-string. Evidently, Voldemort had mastered the art of multi-tasking; he'd used a silent charm to override his unforgivable curse.

Voldemort smiled a sickly, blank grin that emanated only darkness. "Now dance!"

Dolohov eyed him uneasily, standing in his little thong, and then laughed profusely. "Haha, good one, man. You almost had me there. I never knew you had such a good sense of humour."

"Er... I wasn't kidding."

"Ha! Nice! Almost had me again!"

Beads of sweat began to form at Voldemort's brow and for once he was unaware of what he should do. He looked around with his red, horrifying eyes uneasily, as if expecting an answer from his pawns. "That's enough, Antonin."

But Antonin was now rolling on the floor in spasmodic fits of laughter. "Man, you sure had me! You had me good! _Real _good!"

"Really, Antonin, that's enough."

"HA! That was even better than the time I molested those little girls in the back of the creek and then made it look like their dad did it and their mum killed them, and then I raped the mother and performed an abortion on her with a rusty scalpel and then told everyone in the town the father was gay! What a farce!"

"_AVADA KEDAVRA!"_ This time, the curse left Dolohov dead for real and for good. Er, excuse me–fo' rizzle and fo' gizzle. "Now, where were we?"

Suddenly, the doors burst open, and a disheveled-looking Severus Snape came waltzing through the archway, levitating with him a deceased Lucius Malfoy in the appearance of his son, Draco.

"Master, I have him." Severus bowed down to Voldemort.

"Ah, good, good."

"But I have a dire matter of which to inform you. It seems the mudblood girl has fed Cedric Diggory to Potter's cousin in an attempt on his life. As far as I am aware, he remains unmolested, but currently resides in the bowels of the very young, but very dead, Mr Dursley."

Voldemort's brow, or lack thereof, furrowed. "Well done, Severus. Very well done, indeed."

"Wh-wh-wh-whizzle?" Snape was flabbergasted; he'd expected an Avada Kedavra from the start, or at the very least, a recitation of the Cruciatus curse.

"I never expected you to be aware of this, but when a martyred son of the Diggory line is expelled from the anus of a muggle, it is as though he is reborn, and is completely ready for my sexiness-extracting procedures. If only we could bring the fat one back to life long enough to crap 'im out, my plans would be complete!" Voldemort cackled. "I'll entrust you with that task, Severus. I know you won't do me wrong, m'boy." Severus nodded. He liked it when his master called him that; it always got him all excited in the pantalones, if you know what I mean.

"Never," he exhaled graciously, horny as hell.

"Yo!" a voice screamed from the back of the room. It was one of the Lestranges. "How come he never gets punished fer doin' shit an' stuff?"

Voldemort raised the eyebrow that he did not have provocatively. "Oh, he gets punished," he affirmed with a suggestive wink in Snape's direction. Snape shivered at the thought of bondage with Voldemort.

Mmmm, leather and chains.

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Hermione burst through the doors of the Great Hall, only, nobody recognized her as such; her hair was highlighted blonde and chemically straightened, and she wore a leather micro-mini body suit that inappropriately showed off her bodacious bod. Her breasts spilled over the barely-there-neckline and on her face was finally caked makeup–mascara, eyeshadow, eyeliner, lipstick, lipgloss, blush, foundation–you name it, that girl had it. She carried in her mouth a fag and a pipe, one for nicotine and the other for weed and cocaine, respectively. She was bad to the bone, and wouldn't let you forget it. And she was a _goddess._

Draco Malfoy burst through the other doors of the Great Hall, only, nobody recognized _him _as

such; he'd let his hair down and wore a Hogwart's letter jacket, and was lacking his signature cigarette. Not only that, he was clearly a changed man: Slytherin Prince no longer, he was a caring, sensitive individual with big dreams. The whole room went silent.

And then an old record began to play.

Upon seeing Hermione, Draco stripped off his jacket, revealing a black skin-tight sleeveless tee-shirt and black leather pants. "I got chills! They're multiplyin', and I'm losin' control... 'Cause the power you're supplyin'... it's electrifyin'!"

Hermione moved toward Draco, putting one hand on his shoulder and dancing provocatively. "You better shape up, 'cause I need a man, and my heart is set on you! You better shape up; you better understand that to my heart I must be true–"

At that moment, Harry Potter burst into the room and turned the record off. Hermione looked quite disappointed. Conversely, Draco appeared relieved. "Ugh, this is utterly abysmal," Harry sighed. "Hermione, it pisses me off so much that you're so ugly in canon. You always get stuck in the positively _worst _make-over story lines, I swear!" He stared at Draco. "And you! When did you start crying so often? I think I liked arsehole Malfoy better than I like pussy Draco. So why don't you go into the corner and grow a penis?"

"Whatever, man. I have inner pain," Draco explicated. "Heroes like you wouldn't understand." He flipped his hair emotastically. "C'mon, Crabbe, Goyle, let's go cry crimson rivers of tears in our rooms and write awful, 'emotional' poetry about cutting ourselves."

But just as he turned with his cohorts to leave, Severus Snape, broken and stumbling, burst through the door. _"DRACO, RUN!"_ he pled before collapsing on the marble floors.


End file.
